


To Own

by orphan_account



Series: Ownership [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a newcomer in town that Preston Northwest feels he needs to visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Own

When Preston Northwest hears word of a new person moving into Gravity Falls he doesn’t give much thought to whomever they are. So there was another peasant amongst the already brimming poor town, so what? Yet, his wife seemed to not want to stop chattering about them, whoever they were. Preston would have feared infidelity if he didn’t already know his wife was of the highest breed and too pampered by the rich lifestyle Preston provided to go through with such things. Still, it was odd how every now and again he would catch snatches of her wanting to invite them over as if they were some peasant welcoming committee.

“Dear, why would you ever want to invite a poor man into our house of riches?” Preston asked one afternoon during tea hour. She was yammering about them again and it was driving his nerves.

“Darling didn’t you know? The newcomer is rich. Not as rich as us of course but close – he’s the co-CEO of that booming computer business, what was it again…?”

And that’s how Preston Northwest invited himself to the new man’s house.

* * *

 

“So…you heard I was rich and that’s why you decided to come and visit?” Currently the newcomer, Stanford Filbrick Pines, co-CEO to Ford Labs, was staring at him with a look of disbelief.

“Yes, yes I know.” Preston said as he walked into the pitifully small house - really it wasn’t even three stories - and the man said this was to be his main home and not a summer house - though he supposed the man had his right to a modest living. Very modest. “It was so gracious for me to honor you with my presence.” The man’s previously gaping mouth closed shut with a click. “So tell me,” Preston continued as he surveyed the house. Wood paneling, large windows, bookshelves crowding the walls – it was all very sparse, though that could be because the man had only moved in a month ago. “What made you want to move to Gravity Falls? Change of scenery? Work reasons?” And here Preston leaned closer to Mr. Pines, staring straight into his large, brown eyes, “To take this town away from me?”

The man blinked, took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, put them back on and said, “What?”

From next to him, Priscilla giggled and waved her hand, “He’s joking, of course. Now tell me, why did you move into this town Mr. Pines? There’s not much in Gravity Falls. I’m afraid this town is awfully boring.”

Mr. Pines lightened up at Priscilla’s words; as always, his wife’s charm and beauty completely mesmerized the competition and it wasn’t long until Mr. Pines was taking them further into his household, despite the fact that he never technically invited them in. He was already showing vulnerability.

“Please, call me Stanford. You see, I’ve come to Gravity Falls to complete my research. I’m taking a break from being CEO to research anomalies, which Gravity Falls seems to have abound- why, just last week I found a gnome talking to the statue outside.”

“Yes, yes.” Priscilla said, nodding her head in that polite way that Preston has come to understood that she didn’t care for the sentences coming out of Mr. Pines mouth in the slightest, “very interesting. Are you sure you should be completing your research at this time though? I’ve read Ford Industries is a very new company after all, and while it’s doing so well…”

“It’s fine.” Mr. Pines said with a dismissive tone, “Fiddleford, the other CEO – he’s assured me he’s got it handled, persisted even, that I finally take this on.”

Here Preston spoke, putting down the book with the picture of a chicken with a reptilian tale from the nearby bookshelf, “Anomalous Phenomena”, it read. Already Preston could tell the man was obsessed with strange things; probably a product of the man’s freakish six fingers, “How are you so sure he isn’t trying to kick you out of the company while you take this little vacation?”

Mr. Pines looked bewildered again which was a horrible trait for someone with large sums of money. Of course he was new money and probably still had his poor people teachings in his brain which was why when Mr. Pines said, “Fiddleford would never do that,” in this almost scandalized way, it was laughable.

“Of course he won’t.” Priscilla said. Preston looked at her and she looked back and in that moment they both thought, That poor naïve bastard. The Northwests have done their fair share of corporate takeovers – just last week fifteen different people had cursed vengeance at them for their newly lost jobs after they took down that hotel. Of course it was their fault, really, they had insulted the Northwest line when they didn’t offer a complimentary butler with their penthouse suite - speaking of…

“Where’s your butler?” Preston asked, looking around - Mr. Pines was the one who opened the door to them but surely… Preston looked at Stanford aghast, “You do have a butler don’t you?”

“I do.” Mr. Pines said calmly, “Stanley!” He called, “We have guests!”

From the stairwell the sound of boorish foot stomps descended, “Oh yeah? Is it the gnomes again because I have half a mind to-” and then the man appeared, dressed in a handsome tux and matching pants that seemed much fancier than the usual butler affair - almost as if he was a party guest himself and not a standard worker that could be hired and fired at a dime, certainly fancier than Mr. Pines current attire of a sweater vest and dull gray pants. Mr. Pines turned to his butler and hissed, “Stanley, this is Preston and Priscilla Northwest. They own the mansion on the top of the hill; you know the one we saw as we drove into town?”

“Oh.” The oaf said, and he was an oaf if Preston ever saw one. All muscles and no brain and a slight accent under his words, not like the faux british one Preston learned as a child, “Uh...you guys want anything?”

Mr. Pines sighed, long and drawn out and Preston nodded to himself in sympathy. Good help was so hard to find. Still, there had to be better choices for Mr. Pines to have chose from. Why hire him?

Priscilla prattled off what she wanted: iced tea with three sugar cubes, finger sandwiches, a nice place to sit and Prum Wehlener Sonnenuhr Riesling Trockenbeerenauslese wine - only the finest wine imported from Germany - and really it was all such standard stuff but still the butler seemed to be befuddled by the order.

“Uh, sure I’ll get right on that.” The butler said before turning to him. “Uh you want anything...sir?”

“What my wife is having.” Preston said shortly.

“Right.” The butler said with unsurety before ambling off elsewhere. He didn’t even bow to them as he left; so poorly trained.

“Here.” Mr. Pines said as he led them to a small table in the dining room, “why don’t you two take a seat?”

“So tell me,” Priscilla said as she was seated, Mr. Pines showing a sense of politeness as he took out her chair for her, “the butler, is he any way related to you? He looks just so similiar to you…” Preston didn't notice but at the same time he was too busy looking for any security around the room. There was none that he could see, which was a mistake seeing as how rich he was. Such a fool.

“Stanley? Yes, he’s my brother - twin brother, in fact.” Mr. Pines said casually. Priscilla and Preston looked at each other: in all the research they’ve gathered on the newcomer, twin brother wasn’t stated anywhere, and they had gone all the way back to high school graduation yearbooks.

“Tell me more.” Priscilla stated, flashing that megawatt smile that had the last party guest they had eager to spill all his dirty secrets.

“Well…”

In short order Mr. Pines told what sounded like his whole life story. Close since they were children Mr. Pines - “please, call me Stanford” - grew tired of his brother’s constant clinging. They had some inane dream as children to sail away from the town they grew up in a sailboat and while Stanford grew out of the dream, his twin did not. Embraced by jealousy Stanley decided to sabotage his twin’s chances for West Coast Tech - a prestigious school Preston would have chosen if it weren’t for his parent’s insistence that he dismiss his dreams for higher education in favor of a private education in a more close to home setting - and in retribution, when the time came, Stanford left his brother on the curb. Vicious, but admirable. A few years later, despite not receiving the best of higher education, Stanford still made do - when his friend Fiddleford Mcgucket, co-CEO to Ford Labs - but at the time, just a hillbilly hick making computers in his garage - called him up, Stanford reluctantly agreed to join him in the computer making business after several requests for a grant got rejected.

After that the rest is history, Ford Labs became a booming company overnight, Stanford got rich and years later, after having met his brother on the streets, homeless and reeking, he decided to hire him as his butler. Shortly thereafter, having the money he’d originally needed to continue his research, Stanford took a temporary leave from being CEO and together he and his brother moved to Gravity Falls.

Preston had to say he admired the chap sitting across from him. He had ambition. More than that he had a ruthlessness about him. Not a ruthlessness Stanley had, brute forcing the science fair project like that, but a cold sort of ruthlessness. Leaving your twin brother out in the savage world like that, not caring for years what could or would have happened to his brother. That was something a Northwest could be proud of. And years later, hiring him as a butler, showing who’s in charge while silencing what could be a huge embarrassment to the family...now that; that was cunning.

“How noble of you,” Priscilla said as she nibbled on the crustless finger sandwiches the butler had given them. No wine, but at least the closed water bottles he had given them assured Preston that no filth had tainted their drink, “giving your brother a home like that, you’re a good person Stanford.”

Stanford seemed to become bashful at that but from beside them Stanley looked the exact kind of ungrateful Preston expected from a lousy freeloader like him. As the conversation went on Stanley seemed to have chores to do and soon the hour passed in idle chit chat with no sign of the butler anywhere.

“Stanley!” Stanford called. He sighed and looked out into the backyard, “he was supposed to come back after he finished gardening - I’m so sorry but if you’ll excuse me.” He said as he swept to the backyard - briefly the Northwests spotted him outside the nearby window, his head searching to and fro, before he went elsewhere into the household.

“This is the perfect opportunity.” Preston said as he stood.

“Are you sure my dear?”

“You heard him didn’t you? Got his brother kicked out for ruining his dreams, made an empire from a hillbilly’s garage - why this man is ruthless and ambitious. We have to find dirt on him this visit.”

“Yes, but isn’t that what Reginald’s for? He’s been searching this place for an hour, he’s sure to have found something by now. No need to dirty our hands. Sit down dear, before Stanford comes back.”

Still, Preston was not deterred. “I’ll be back in a minute dear. If he comes back tell him I went in search for the men's room.” Preston said as he went the exact opposite of where he last heard Stanford call for his brother. He went through a hallway filled with rooms, some with computer designs tacked on the wall - he’d have to make a detour to this room later - some with nothing but books filling the desks and towering over Preston ominously and one a workout room that seemed to permeate the stench of sweat. It wasn’t until Preston came across a room with nothing but a vending machine in it that he found what he was looking for.

“Stanley!” He heard Stanford shout but it was coming from deeper in the room. From behind the vending machine.

Having seen the comic books littering the work out machine in the gym and knowing the propensity for strangeness Stanford had, it didn’t take long for Preston to figure out that the house had hidden rooms. Hidden rooms meant secrets. Secrets meant weakness.

But how to get in?

Preston looked at the items on display, looked at the vending machine’s buttons and then to the slot in the vending machine. He deliberated what to do for a moment before pressing every single button on the vending machine. All the buttons glowed but did nothing. He pushed every button again. All the buttons stopped glowing. He pushed buttons randomly for five minutes before the vending machine opened with a groan.

“Yes, just as planned.” Preston adjusted his suit, ran his fingers through his hair and stared at what the vending machine revealed: stairs - stairs glowing sickly green from the lantern hanging by the rails. Stairs that led to who knows where. From his suit pocket Preston conjured a walkie talkie.

“Reginald, prepare the car.”

“Sir you said the visit would last an hour and a half at least.”

“Yes, and now I’m saying prepare the car. Get everything you’ve gathered and start the car.”

“Yes sir.” Reginald said like a good butler. Honestly he should’ve just sent Reginald down the ominous stairs and into the basement but Preston knew - whatever was in that basement - was something that he had to see with his own eyes.

With a deep breath, Preston went deeper into the Pines Household.

The first thing Preston thought as he descended down the steps was that the wallpaper was really unfortunate. It was a pasty green which when reflected in the light made everything seem to glow green. The other is that the room stairs really needed some air conditioning - it was getting harder to breathe with every step he took and it really shouldn’t have. The last thing he thought as he descended the stairs was that this didn’t look quite as ominous as he thought it would be.

Sickly green glow gave way to proper lighting. It was still a little stuffy in the basement but there were electric fans whirring away at the ends of the hallways. He was at a crossroads. Ahead of him lay a long hallway filled with doors yet from left to his right there was also a hallway. Preston decided to go to the nearest door adjacent to him. What he found was much like a chemistry lab. There didn’t seem to be any illegal substances in any of the tubes or containers but perhaps Stanford was one of those drug dealers. If he wasn’t it wouldn’t be that hard to plant false evidence on him were he ever to be a nuisance.

Preston quickly moved on to the next room. This room seemed a little more scandalous. While the rest of the basement was hot, this one was purposefully cool. In it there were cages of all sorts, big and tall, small and claustrophobic, some hanging from the ceiling and some seemingly bolted to the ground - most of them were empty but in one of the cages was a single little person. It didn’t seem starved, so he couldn’t particularly charge Stanford with torture, but it did seem grumpy. A fan was blowing it in its face but it seemed to create a gust so strong it made the creature shiver.

“And what are you?” Preston asked as he peered closer into the cage.

The little person, who looked to be dressed like a gnome, just frowned and said, “Shmebulock.”

“Mind telling me why Stanford Pines has all these cages set up?”

“Shmebulock.” The thing said.

“I have to commend him.” Preston said as he looked at the sturdy iron bars and the sheer multitude of cages, equally spaced and with blank name tags under them, waiting to be filled, “Father always said that keeping people in the dungeon was how we should really deal with unruly peasants but he was all talk. I can’t believe Stanford has actually gone through with it.” A shiver worked its way down his spine. “He’s even more ruthless than I imagined.”

Talking reached his ear and Preston’s spine stiffened. He hid behind the gnome creature, almost knocking it off it’s little table and strained his ear.

“I thought you said we should behave ourselves?” Stanley’s voice floated in from nearby.

“I did.” Stanford replied. Slowly Preston crept away from the whirring of the fan to get a better listen. Soon he was flat against the wall next to the doorway, craning his neck for a sense of where the voices were coming from.

“How’s you ditching the piss crew behaving well?” Preston felt his hands clench. Why that pleb! Preston inched forward until his side hit the moulding surrounding the door and then he peeked into the hallway. No one there. He heard them coming from the left. Inching along the hallway Preston found them two doors down, the door open just a peek to see in. There was Stanford standing very close to Stanley in a...bedroom?

“They’re not the ‘piss crew’ Stanley, they’re the Northwests and they’re as boring as Miss Jackie’s old math class.” The twins both shuddered and made a blanch face that made it clear that Miss Jackie’s old math class was very boring indeed.

Well, if that’s how Stanford thought of them. He won’t be invited to the Northwest Mansion anytime soon. Preston felt irritation and had half a mind to go back and steal some blueprints if it weren’t for the way his eyes seemed to be attracted to Stanford and the way he seemed to change moods. He went from cringing to something predatory in no time flat, his whole frame straightening out into something a businessman would be proud of. He leveled his brother with a stare and said, “Stanley I would like for you to strip for me.”

Preston almost choked on his tongue when he heard those words.

“What happened to behaving?” Stanley asked again. “We have guests you know.”

“Stanley.” Stanford said in this authoritative tone. He got in his brother’s personal space and placed a hand on his brother’s well defined cheek, “what am I to you?”

And in an instant all the fight seemed to fly from Stanley’s body. He bowed his head - and from where Preston stood near the door, staring at their profiles, could see as Stanley leaned into the hand that lowered into cupping his jaw, one thumb rubbing circles under his ear. Stanley seemed to simultaneously shy away and edge closer as he said, “You’re my master.” in this reverent sort of tone.

Stanford shivered. Preston shivered too. He had been called master many a times by many a deferential butler but no butler or servant had ever said it quite like that. It was always so bland and normal as opposed to Stanley’s passionate declaration. Stanford seemed to like the way his brother said it because he was staring at his brother with such affection. And possessiveness.

“That’s right Stanley.” Stanford’s husky voice murmured, “I’m your master.” He kissed his brother on the forehead; let his hand curl around the back of Stanley’s neck. “And you know what that means?”

Stanley shook his head and said, “No.” A pinch to Stanley's rear and he jumped and reiterated, “No, sir.”

“It means,” Stanford said, “that you are my servant. And you know what that means Stanley?”

This time Stanley said it correctly, “No sir.”

“It means,” and here the twins were close. So close that if Preston were to pinch his fingers in front of his face, his index and thumb would cover both of them; they were so close. “That you are mine. Mine to love,” here Stanford kissed his brothers brow, “mine to protect,” his nose, “mine to own” and here on the lips, chaste and leaving Stanley leaning in for more, eyes closed - and it wasn’t until Preston was waiting for Stanford to continue did he realize that he was staring straight at him; Stanford was staring straight at Preston a look of challenge in his eyes, a possessive hand curled around his brother’s neck- and, oh, _oh_.

Preston moved from the spot he was peeking and headed straight for the stairwell, but not before hearing, “ _mine to use_.” and gulping softly.

“Preston dear what’s the rush?”

“Hurry along dear.” Preston said, as he dragged his wife towards the limo waiting outside. Reginald was already opening the car door for them and he urged Priscilla in gratefully.

“Reginald to the mansion. Pronto.”

“Honestly Preston that was rude of you.” Priscilla said as she took out her little compact mirror and adjusted her hair, “We didn’t even get to say goodbye, and what about our snooping? We don’t know if the newcomer has sights on the town yet.”

“Trust me,” Preston said as he brought out his handkerchief to pat at his sweaty temple, “Stanford Filbrick Pines concerns himself with the ownership of one thing, and it isn’t the town.”


End file.
